[ His gaze flits downward when he hears those wet coughs, and Gen feels a twist of emotion lance through his chest at the sight of Dokja shuddering, bile pooling stringy from his lips. Aah, he's really going to die at this rate, isn't he? So it's elation sparking hot down his spine, right? Vindication at the knowledge that he's managed to take this arrogant, inhuman asshole down a peg, right? Satisfaction over a job well done, right?
Right?
There's an odd chill starting to creep through his nerves, and even if he were cognizant of it, he wouldn't be able to tell if it's from the slow bloodloss, or from the knowledge that maybe now there's a second grave he'll be forever chained to. There's cold sweat beading at his brow, and his next breath comes choked and rasping even as he forces a strangled laugh. ]
You really don't shut up, do you.
[ Abel's incessant yapping rings in his ears. Noisy. Annoying. Sending an anxious roil churning through his nerves. It's all laid atop a familiar feeling prickling at the back of his neck -- the presence of a phantom at his back, the gleam of a knife at the corner of his vision, the sounds of muffled sobbing and screams. Gen abruptly flinches, looking aside as if alerted to the presence of something, but there won't be anything there that Abel can see. Even when Gen looks back to him and starts speaking again, there's something unfocused in his gaze -- like his thoughts aren't all there. ]
... you know there's a weapon right there. [ He nods to where his mace lies beside Dokja's curled up form, blood caked against its jagged head. ] And I don't have anything else. As you can see. [ Gen raises his arms, languid, hands spread empty. He's not really looking at Abel, instead watching the blood drip from his fingertips (a familiar sight, seen over and over in his dreams, for years now) when he continues at a drawl: ] If you really want to stop me, then your answer's right there.
[ It's practically a challenge. 'What will you do, Abel?' Will you remain as self-righteous, nauseatingly pacifist, and noble as before when it's not your own life on the line? -- it's a fair enough trade-off, Gen figures. He'll let Dokja die on his own terms, away from this place and away from his eyes, if Abel will budge from those bullshit principles of his and strike him with that mace. Prove that his beliefs were always right -- strength and violence are ultimately all that matter. ]
Or are you still gonna make excuses for why you won't? Why you're just going to let me kill him right here, right now?
no subject
Right?
There's an odd chill starting to creep through his nerves, and even if he were cognizant of it, he wouldn't be able to tell if it's from the slow bloodloss, or from the knowledge that maybe now there's a second grave he'll be forever chained to. There's cold sweat beading at his brow, and his next breath comes choked and rasping even as he forces a strangled laugh. ]
You really don't shut up, do you.
[ Abel's incessant yapping rings in his ears. Noisy. Annoying. Sending an anxious roil churning through his nerves. It's all laid atop a familiar feeling prickling at the back of his neck -- the presence of a phantom at his back, the gleam of a knife at the corner of his vision, the sounds of muffled sobbing and screams. Gen abruptly flinches, looking aside as if alerted to the presence of something, but there won't be anything there that Abel can see. Even when Gen looks back to him and starts speaking again, there's something unfocused in his gaze -- like his thoughts aren't all there. ]
... you know there's a weapon right there. [ He nods to where his mace lies beside Dokja's curled up form, blood caked against its jagged head. ] And I don't have anything else. As you can see. [ Gen raises his arms, languid, hands spread empty. He's not really looking at Abel, instead watching the blood drip from his fingertips (a familiar sight, seen over and over in his dreams, for years now) when he continues at a drawl: ] If you really want to stop me, then your answer's right there.
[ It's practically a challenge. 'What will you do, Abel?' Will you remain as self-righteous, nauseatingly pacifist, and noble as before when it's not your own life on the line? -- it's a fair enough trade-off, Gen figures. He'll let Dokja die on his own terms, away from this place and away from his eyes, if Abel will budge from those bullshit principles of his and strike him with that mace. Prove that his beliefs were always right -- strength and violence are ultimately all that matter. ]
Or are you still gonna make excuses for why you won't? Why you're just going to let me kill him right here, right now?